


Joyride

by bumblebi221



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Amused Sam Winchester, Angry Dean Winchester, But I haven't forgotten him, Castiel isn't here yet, Crossover, Funny, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Nice Crowley (Good Omens), Prompt Fill, The Ineffable Husbands Go to America, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27864514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebi221/pseuds/bumblebi221
Summary: Prompt fill for simplyapannightmare on tumblr: Good Omens Crowley being caught in a devil’s trap placed by the Supernatural gang—shenanigans and misunderstandings ensue.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 147





	Joyride

Crowley and Aziraphale had decided it would be a good idea to go on a well-earned vacation. After all, stopping the apocalypse is hard work. They decided to go to America, as Crowley was very excited to tempt the Americans, and to visit the ridiculous tourist attractions.

“A great ball of twine, Aziraphale! Who comes up with that? Brilliant!” the demon said as he was looking through pamphlets. Aziraphale smiled.

“Crowley, have you taken care of the car rental?” he asked.

“Car rental?” Crowley looked up from the brochure, confused.

“You can’t drive the Bentley there, dear,” Aziraphale explained. “We’re taking a plane.”

“Right,” said Crowley. “Um, I’ll do that later today. Have you finished packing?” Aziraphale nodded.

“I’m almost finished. I just need to decide which jacket to bring.” He held up two identical beige jackets. Crowley sighed.

“The one on the left,” he said, just to avoid further discourse.

“What about this one?” asked the angel.

“Er, the one on the left… it brings out your eyes better,” said Crowley. Aziraphale smiled; it had worked. He put the left jacket into the suitcase and put away the other one. Crowley smiled back at him.  
The next day, Crowley and Aziraphale were set to leave. Crowley drove the Bentley (at breakneck speed, as always) to the airport, so of course they arrived early. Aziraphale checked them in and they sat down to wait for boarding. Eventually, they boarded, and they settled in their seats, ready for takeoff.

Eight hours later, they touched down at JFK. Aziraphale had had a lovely time. He even watched an in-flight film on the miniature television screen! The flight attendants were most kind, and though it wasn’t gourmet, he had enjoyed trying the provided meal. Crowley did not particularly enjoy the flight. For a demon, he was very skeptical of planes. Every time they experienced turbulence, he looked around nervously in the manner one does when one does not want to appear nervous but wants to see if everyone (anyone) else is. He kept poking Aziraphale and saying things like “Angel? What was that? I’m pretty sure planes aren’t supposed to do that…”

“Everything is perfectly sound, my dear. Just try to relax,” Aziraphale would respond.

“Just try to relax,” mocked Crowley.

After they disembarked, it was time to pick up the rental car. They headed to the garage, which was full of all sorts of cars of all sizes and models. Crowley admired a few of them, but as was the case with most rental cars, they weren’t very flashy. He gave one of the rental men his name and other information, and they led the two over to their car.

“No, I can’t be seen driving in that. Is there anything else available?” Crowley shook his head and looked pleadingly through his sunglasses at the man. The car in question was a Citroen Pluriel. It was tiny and looked like a knock-off Volkswagen beetle.

“I’m sorry sir, but I’m afraid there isn’t,” said the man.

“It’s alright dear. I actually think the car has a bit of… what is it the kids say… a bit of spunk.” Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley’s shoulder and smiled.

“Spunk? No. More like… stunk,” said Crowley lamely. He sighed and put their luggage in the trunk (or what passed for one) while Aziraphale thanked the rental man and climbed in the passenger seat. Crowley signed the papers and sat in the driver’s seat. “Alright, Angel, let’s hit the road.” He pulled out of the garage and sped down the street, not wanting to let the disappointing car ruin the day.  
Aziraphale and Crowley spent the following week making their way from New York to L.A. They were taking the northern route there, and planned on driving the southern route back. Eventually, they made it to Cawker City, Kansas. Crowley was very excited about this, and considered it the main attraction of the holiday. They checked into their hotel, then headed to see the Giant Ball of Twine.

As they were driving back, they passed a decrepit-looking building off the main road. Crowley’s eye was immediately drawn not to the building, but rather to the shiny black vintage car that was parked out front. He pulled up behind it and got out of his own underwhelming vehicle.

“Aziraphale, look! A ‘67 Chevy Impala! And it’s perfectly maintained from new!” he added, peering in through the window.

“Wonderful, dear,” said Aziraphale, who was preoccupied with a book.

“Let’s take- er, borrow it,” Crowley corrected. He didn’t want Aziraphale to protest.

“Sure, dear,” Aziraphale said absentmindedly.

“Fantastic!” He ran to their trunk to get the luggage (and most importantly, the CDs he’d brought) and moved it to the impala. Then he opened Aziraphale’s door and led him to the passenger seat of the cooler car. Aziraphale did not look up from his book. Since Crowley wasn’t a total monster, he grabbed the left-behind belongings he could find - some money, cassette tapes, and a vial of… blood? - and put them in the rental. Then he hopped in the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Now this is more like it!” he exclaimed.

“Sam, wait a second.” Sam paused, blood-soaked knife raised over a tied up monster. He looked questioningly over at Dean, who was looking towards the door. “Something’s wrong.” He ran out the door to find a ginger man with sunglasses in the driver’s seat of… no, of the Impala! He was accompanied by some blond in a weird suit and bow tie. “Hey!” he yelled at them. “That’s my car!”

“Thanks for the ride,” called the ginger. He whipped off his sunglasses to reveal yellow eyes. He sped off, leaving Dean confused and angry in the dust. Sam came jogging up behind him, wiping the blood from his face with his sleeve.

“What happened?” he asked.

“The demon. Yellow eyes. He’s possessed a ginger and stolen my car, Sam! That’s what happened!” Sam looked toward the road, brows furrowed.

“What should we do?”

“Gank him, obviously!”

“We don’t have the colt.”

“Son of a -”

“We could get Ash to find him. He’s done way harder stuff than track a plate,” Sam offered. Dean nodded sullenly.

“I guess.”

“Well, then, let’s go.”

“We have no car, Sam.”

“Yellow Eyes left us a gift,” Sam countered, pointing to the Pluriel. Dean’s eyes widened in shock and horror.

“I’ll kill him,” he said.

“Crowley, you need to return that young man’s car,” pressed Aziraphale, who had finally returned to reality.

“I will… on the way back.”

“Anthony J. Crowley!” Crowley jumped a bit at being full-named by Aziraphale. Everyone knows you’re in trouble when you get full-named.

“Fine,” he said. “Tomorrow. Let me have one day with her.”

“Promise?” asked Aziraphale, the anger immediately fading into a relieved smile.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Thanks, Ash. Yeah, we’ll stop by soon. Later.” Sam put his phone down and turned to Dean, who was still cursing the car. “Ash says he’s still in town.”

“Great, where’s he staying?” asked Dean, not looking up from his intense glare at the steering wheel. Sam gave him the name of the hotel and directions. Before long, they arrived.

“So what’s the plan?” asked Sam.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, no colt, no weapons, what do we do?” Dean sat thinking for a moment.

“We could set a trap. And then exorcise him. We can’t kill him right now, but we’ll get my car back.” The two brothers waited until they were sure Yellow Eyes was gone (in fact, he and Aziraphale were out for a lovely dinner at the moment) and then went inside to get to work.

“That was a scrumptious meal, dear,” said Aziraphale as they pulled into the hotel parking lot.

“Anytime, Angel,” grinned Crowley. They got out of the car and walked inside. They took the elevator up to their floor and made their way to their room. After several frustrating attempts at holding the card to the locking mechanism, the door clicked and Crowley held the door open for Aziraphale. He followed the angel in and let the door swing shut behind them.

“What would you like to do now, my dear?” asked Aziraphale, sitting down on the bed. Crowley didn’t answer, but sniffed the air instead. “Crowley, what’s the matter?”

“Something smells different,” he answered. He went back over to the door and tried to open it, but something was preventing him from getting close enough. He looked down at the ground to see, hidden beneath a rug, the edge of what he knew could only be a demon trap peering out mockingly at him. He lifted the rug up to reveal the rest of it and groaned.

“Crowley? What’s that?” asked Aziraphale.

“It’s a demon trap. Some idiot human’s gone and laid it and now I’m stuck.”

“How do you get out?”

“The circle has to be broken. I can’t do it, because I’m a demon.”

“Could I do it?”

“You could.”

“Well, then, how do I do that?”

“Just, sort of scuff your shoe or something on the paint. To get rid of it.”

“Alright, dear.” Aziraphale got off the bed and approached the circle.

“Not so fast,” said a man’s voice. He kicked the door open and came in, pointing a gun. A taller man followed, also pointing a gun. “Hey, Yellow Eyes. Long time no see.”

“Crowley, do you know this man?” asked Aziraphale nervously, hands in the air.

“Never met him before in my life. Who are you?” Crowley looked at the two men, confused.

“He’s lying. Yellow Eyes-” Dean began.

“Crowley!” the demon interrupted.

“Alright, Crowley. He killed my mom and my brother’s girlfriend. He also took my dad. And he did something to my brother to give him powers. And he stole my car. So yeah, we’ve met.”

“What are you talking about? Crowley, what is he talking about. Did you do that?” Aziraphale looked extremely upset.

“No, I’ve never even been to America. Tried once, but that was with you in 1912 and… well, you know how that went.”

“Then who are you?” asked the taller man.

“I asked who you guys were first.”

“I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean,” said the tall man. “Who are you?” he asked again.

“My name is Crowley, and this is Aziraphale.” Aziraphale smiled politely. “Why am I in this trap?”

“Because you’re a demon. Doing demonic things.” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“But I didn’t do what you said I did. I’ve never done anything like that. So can we go now? We’re on holiday, and we’re going to L.A., and we need to make it back for our flight home to London...”

“It’s true. He’s not really evil. I don’t even think he’s ever actually killed anyone before.” Aziraphale ignored the embarrassed and angry look from Crowley. And he’s afraid of planes,” he added.

“You may not have done the other things, but you still stole my car,” said Dean. “I’d like it back.”

“I just missed my Bentley back home and figured, hey, this car is fantastic, I’ll just take it for a quick joyride. I was going to return it tomorrow,” said Crowley. “Honest.”

“He was,” said Aziraphale, nodding. “I made him promise.”

“Aziraphale… Dean, that sounds like an angel name,” Sam whispered to Dean.

“Angels don’t exist, Sammy,” Dean whispered back.

“Yes, we do,” said Aziraphale, looking rather offended.

“You’re an angel?” said Dean incredulously.

“Yes.”

“And you’re hanging out with a demon?”

“He’s my friend.”

“I think we’re more than friends, Angel.”

“Alright, he’s my partner,” admitted Aziraphale. He threw Crowley a shy smile.

“You guys are… dating?” asked Sam.

“In a manner of speaking,” said Crowley.

“Congratulations. Give me back my car,” said Dean.

“Fine. Let me out,” Crowley said. Dean looked at Sam, who gave him a nod. He walked over to the circle and scuffed the paint. Crowley practically leapt out of the circle towards Aziraphale and stood behind him, glaring at Dean. “Thank you.”

“Dean, we should get going,” said Sam, fighting to suppress a grin. This was just too funny. A non-evil demon with an angel boyfriend who stole Dean’s car for a day? Because he missed his own black vintage car?

“Sam, he’s a demon.” Dean clearly intended to prevent Crowley from doing any more demonic activities, no matter how small.

“Dating an angel. He can’t be that bad. Come on.”

“Fine.” Dean shot a warning look at Crowley, who smiled and waved. “But, uh, do you know where the real Yellow Eyes is?”

“Nope. America’s not my department.”

“Alrighty then. We’ll get out of your hair,” said Sam, pushing Dean towards the door. “So sorry. Enjoy your vacation.”

“Goodbye! Lovely to meet you both,” said Aziraphale, smiling.

“Likewise,” Sam grinned. He and Dean closed the door behind them and didn’t talk until they were in the car.

“Oh, Baby, I missed you so much,” Dean said, stroking the dash. “The mean demon didn’t treat you badly, did he?”

“Dean, you okay?” Sam asked. He still hadn’t fully recovered from the hilarity of what had just happened, and this threatened to set him off again.

“I am perfectly all right, thank you very much. I’m just happy to be back in my car.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Shut it. Where are my cassettes?” He rifled around the floor looking for a few minutes before he remembered. “Right, they’re in that stupid thing. It’s not even a car, Sammy. It doesn’t deserve that title.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “I’ll go get our stuff. Be right back.” He left for a few minutes and came back with their belongings. “Hey, Dean, I just thought of something.”

“Good for you. What is it?”

“You and Crowley are kind of similar.”

“Wh- he’s a demon, Sam. How are we similar? I’m offended.”

“Well, you both drive an old black car. You both listen to old rock music… You both have a very... specific fashion sense, though your individual tastes do vary.”

“What’s your point?”

“When are you going to get an angel boyfriend?” Dean’s face turned bright red and he pulled out of the parking lot as fast as he could while Sam laughed hysterically.


End file.
